The Power of Entropy
by shiadren
Summary: Harry lives in a world driven mad by war. Dark and Light have ceased to exist, yet the two remain locked in a neverending battle that has left everything in ruins. In a world ruled by madness and death, can Harry potter manage to survive? Does he want to?
1. Prologue

**A/N - Apologies to those who liked my old story, but after reading it multiple times, I was forced to conclude that it was pure shite. So, I am rewriting it, and it will be a totally different story with a totally new premise. Basically, the old story is deleted. This is a new story. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you. I was greatly inspired by both The Skitterleap and Harry Potter and the Wastelands of Time, but my story is my own, and I have yet to see this plot anywhere else. I just thought I'd give credit where credit is due - check those stories out if you haven't already.**

Harry sprinted across the field, flashes of the wasted landscape invading his blurring eyes.

_I never wanted it to come to this_, thought Harry. _This isn't what I wanted. But it doesn't matter what I want. It never has. I used to think the world had some sort of order to it. We're all Time's bitches._

Running was so second nature to him that his thoughts drifted vaguely to contemplating how he had even got into this fucked up situation. The moment when the world went insane. It started when the time turners, at least the ones on record, had been seized and used by the Ministry in a last ditch effort to turn the tide of the war. Unluckily for them, there were just as many turners off record than there were on, and what ensued was a bloody struggle is/has/will strained the very fabric of Time. The scene rushing past him looked was one of the latest results of this struggle.

All over the hill that had once been lush and green were now thousands of bodies, splayed and contorted into every shape imaginable, like some monstrous homage to death. Everywhere he looked, Harry saw friends and enemies alike, their last expressions of life frozen onto their faces. Most sported a scowl, snarl, or other gruesome face, making them all look like tortured wax sculptures. Limbs lay on the ground, severed from their bodies, oozing out blood and spell-damaged bone. The results of the battle were everywhere; sticky blood covered the grass, and turned the dirt into sickly-looking mud. Smoke filled the air from the fires caused by the spells of both armies. Charred plant life turned to ash as Harry stepped on it in his departure, sending puffs of dust up into the air to settle over the fresh corpses.

_Basically, it's nothing new. Or is it nothing old?_

The air was completely silent. No birds or insects hovered over the battlefield; they were smart enough to sense the inherent wrongness of the place. The feel of dark magic and pissed-off Time seeped through the air, subconsciously warning life in general to stay away. The sun was high in the sky, but the night would never come for these bodies. These bodies wouldn't even be here.

It was enough to drive you crazy, if you let it. Even now, leaders from both sides were making floo calls and sending a Patronus to the correct people, and soon the battle would have never occurred. People would use their turners to go back in time and inform the future casualties of the coming slaughter, and say how the battle was a failure. The result would be that if he didn't get out of there in time, Harry would be trapped in what had come to be known as a Flush.

A Flush. A giant vortex in time. Like Time got disgusted of smelling the stinking shit of the war and flushed it down the toilet, only to see a nice clean sparkling bowl. It was Time's reset, when it decided that the time line was getting too fucked up. If you were caught in a Flush, you were swallowed up. They called the casualties Nothings. Flushing was too much for the human mind to comprehend, and you would just snap. It was worse than a Kiss, so much worse. Your mind was spread over the infinity of time, your soul was halved again and again as it attempted to keep up with your mind, and your body was atomized and vanished. It was like you never existed. Even worse, they say you stayed conscious, for eternity, trapped in an infinite number of dimensions that didn't exist without an identity or even a concept of existence. Just awareness of nothingness. It was scary shit.

Harry wrinkled his nose at the taste and smell of death that invaded his mouth and nostrils. He truly needed to use all of his battle-hardened resolve not to start retching. He compromised by running faster, as if he could escape the smell. The extra speed couldn't hurt, as it would only get him to the portkey faster. He had to reach the top of the hill before the portkey was activated. A portkey was the only way to get out of a Flush Zone. Something about the time distortion that went with a portkey created a hole through the Flush. If you apparated, you went crazy. If you tried to fly or run away, you went crazy. If you were in a building and tried to Floo away, you went crazy. Harry only knew the basic theory behind it, but even that was enough to tell him not to fuck with it. There always had to be a portkey ready, because you couldn't just make a portkey and portkey out - it had to be premade. Otherwise the portkey would get Flushed too, and your body parts would be strewn all over the Flush Zone before they were lost in some space-time continuum. There were horror stories, enough to fuck you up for life. The ones who were still alive, or at least in this current time loop, had long ago learned that being early was surviving.

Harry reached the portkey a couple of minutes later, with a minute to spare. It had been close, much too close. The portkey was a long silver chain, with loops for securing the handholds placed periodically throughout the chain. Harry instinctively put each of his hands through a loop, tightened the loops, and got a firm hold on the chain. It was a product of hard-learned lessons on the battlefield. In the Time Wars, waiting too long could cost you more than your life. After raping Time multiples times every second, Time was more than willing to dish out a little revenge to those who dicked around.

Harry breathed deeply, aware of the growing thickness of the air and the heaviness of the turner chain around his neck. He could tell that the Flush would be coming in a couple minutes, but he'd be out of there momentarily.

With a quick burst of sparks, the portkey signaled it was going to activate in 30 seconds. During those few seconds, Harry looked around the battlefield, trying to find some shred of remorse, some amount of pity, some indicator that he felt anything for the people who he had grown up with, laughed with, loved.

He felt nothing. Death wasn't the same as it used to be, as in a few minutes, these people wouldn't be dead. Of course, some say Flushing back was worse than dying, but he wouldn't know. The people who died would remember the battle, and remember themselves dying, and in some small part of their minds still think that they were dead. But they aren't - they're alive and the battle never happened, and they'll live to un-die another day. They could un-die again tomorrow, or yesterday, or be killed and unkilled years ago, and still keep on fighting.

Most people tried to kill themselves, but after they did, someone was sent back to inform someone else of the suicide, and to make sure it didn't happen.

_The leaders need their little soldiers._

As the portkey began to rotate, an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu came over him. He remembered with striking clarity back to the time when, arguably, this whole thing started. Back to when he had been so naïve. Back when the world was sane and life was worth living. With a final spin, he disappeared in a violent swirl of black fabric, leaving behind death for more madness.

Harry Potter left Stoatshead hill, near Ottery St. Catchpole, as the sole survivor of a battle that never happened.

**A/N - Sorry if it's a little vague on some aspects, but I can't cram every detail of the backstory into a prologue. The war Harry is now in will be explained in later chapters, same as how this Time War works. I hope to have a very comprehensive backstory behind this, which will gradually be built up.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N - This story begins with Harry in his 4th year, just arriving at the quidditch world cup. A little OC-ness from Harry, but nothing major. However, this IS an AU story, so some things will be different. It starts off slow, and next chapter will be a little slow as well, but I promise, in the chapter after that, things start warming up.**

With a loud THUMP, the portkey deposited Harry, Ron, and Hermione into an unceremonious pile on the ground. Groaning, Harry slowly disentangled himself from the pile, rubbing his arse which was sure to be sore for the next hour.

"You could have warned us about arriving," grumbled Harry, much to the agreement of Ron and Hermione. It seemed few were sympathetic to their plight, and Mr. Weasley easily brushed Harry's remark aside.

"All in good fun, Harry! It was your first time using a portkey, and it's tradition that we let youngsters go on their first portkey without warning. It's sort of a type of April Pools Day joke, with us wizards!" explained Arthur, delighted at being able to reference a muggle holiday in a regular conversation.

"Fools Day," corrected Hermione automatically, rolling her eyes at Harry. Shrugging it off, Harry returned the eye roll, and let a smile come onto his face. After all, he was at the Quidditch World Cup! He was away from the Dursleys, and was spending the rest of the summer with his favorite family. A sore bum paled in comparison to the warm companionship he felt with the Weasleys. They weren't his biological family, but they were the closest he had. If Sirius were here, he'd be laughing right along with Mr. Weasley. The image of Sirius laughing a good, solid laugh brought a grin to Harry's face, and he fancied that right now Sirius was flying on top of Buckbeak, breathing clean, free air.

Harry looked and saw Hermione smiling at him, and he knew that she was thinking of Sirius too. Ron, meanwhile, was attempting to get all of the dust out of his carrot colored hair. After a reprimand from Hermione for getting dirt on her jacket, Ron ceased his exercise in futility, and gave them a sheepish look.

"Honestly Ron, it's not like you'll be seeing anybody you know here, anyway."

"Are you kidding, Hermione? This is the Quidditch World Cup! Everyone will be here."

"Oh honestly, Quidditch is not that important. I'm sure not everyone is as obsessed with it as you two."

Ron gaped wordlessly at Hermione in shock of the blasphemy she had just uttered, but could only gape for so long, as a Ministry official came to usher them off of the portkey platform. Mr. Weasley had been chatting with two coworkers from the Ministry, and found out where he should go to find their campsite. After a quick thanks, he lead the rest of the group out in the direction indicated.

The first thing Harry noticed was that it was very, very wet. The morning mist was so thick and the dew so heavy that they were all quickly drenched. The second thing he noticed was that it was cold. The sun had yet to come up, and so the last dregs of chilly night air still hung about the woods they were walking through. Harry tried to see something through the mist, but everything looked very ephemeral, as if could vanish in a moments notice. Then, as if out of a dream, thousands of tents appeared through the fog, along with a tiny cottage. The worry and discomfort were quickly replaced by excitement as the group got the first glimpse of the campsite.

_This is it! This is the World Cup! _

Standing outside the cottage was probably the only real muggle in miles, evidenced by his normal clothes. All the wizards were wearing clothes that looked like a muggle put the outfit together on crack. Some forgot secrecy altogether, and were walking around in robes.

Mr. Weasley, always enthusiastic to converse with a muggle, practically bounded up to the man. His enthusiasm was contagious, and Harry felt like he was walking into Honeydukes for the first time. The rest followed Mr. Weasley at a slower pace, but Harry and Hermione arrived just in time to help out Mr. Weasley with the money.

"Here, kids, help me. Which one of these is a muggle sickle?"

"No, Mr. Weasley, muggles use pounds, not sickles, knuts, or galleons," explained Hermione in a hushed voice, while Harry helped Mr. Weasley pick out the right kind of money under the far too curious gaze of the unknown muggle.

"Here you go, Mr. Roberts!" said Mr. Weasley cheerfully, as if it hadn't taken him five minutes and the help of two 14 year olds to come up with the right amount of money.

"Are you guys foreign, or something'?" asked Mr. Roberts with a slight drawl that for some reason bothered Harry immensely.

_Easy, Harry. Don't want to be like Malfoy._

The thought of acting even remotely similar to Malfoy immediately sobered Harry up, and made him realize that an accent was a stupid thing to be bothered by.

"Ah… No! Of course not! What makes you think that?" said Mr. Weasley in an obviously nervous voice.

"Well, most people know the difference between pounds and… what was it you called it? A sickle? I know I ain't a professor, but I can still tell that you didn't have a clue on what to pay me with."

Ron decided to contribute to the conversation by bluntly asking "What difference does it make? We gave you your money. Sorry it took so long, mate."

"Yes, sorry to bother you," pacified Hermione.

"Right you are, young sir, but unless I'm mistakin'," paused the man, totally ignoring Hermione, "a sickle ain't no money, it's used for farmin' and such. That is, unless you aren't from around here. You ain't some sort of terrorist, now, are ye?"

"This is getting annoying," pointed out Harry. He was much more interested in exploring the campsite than he was talking to this guy. He was practically bouncing on his toes to keep from just walking past the guy and into the camp.

"HARRY!" exclaimed every female presence in the vicinity, as well as some of the male ones. Everybody was looking at him, surprised, and Harry immediately regretted being so rude.

"I'm sorry, it slipped out," apologized Harry sincerely. "Hey mate, we gave you the money, lets just call it square, eh?" The man looked at Harry with indignation and anger, and was about to give him some sort of lecture when a Ministry official jumped out from the mist.

"Obliviate!" he shouted, and immediately a dazed and dreamy look came over the muggles face, while the wizard stowed away his wand.

"That's the 11th time today I've had to obliviate him! He keeps questioning the sudden influx of people, and it's the only way we can keep him from figuring out the truth," explained the official. "Unfortunately, he becomes more and more belligerent each time. Sorry about that, Arthur."

"It's no problem Phil, I know how hard security can be at these things," acknowledged Mr. Weasley. The two talked for a couple minutes, while Harry Ron and Hermione had their own side conversation.

"It's a shame that they have to keep Obliviating that poor man," sympathized Hermione. "He's only trying to do his job. You know, I read that repeated obliviations tend to cause unfocussed anger because the person is confused over the missing time from their memories, and that confusion makes them disgruntled."

"I dunno why they can't do something else. Like, every time he's obliviated, use a time turner and send him back a couple minutes," thought Harry out loud. "That way, he doesn't even notice the lapse in memory, we don't have to deal with disgruntled muggle campsite managers, and we can get to the bloody campsite already!"

"Harry! That would be a remarkably flippant use of a time turner!"

"But Hermione, it'd work, wouldn't it?" asked Ron, slightly confused where this conversation is going.

"Well," mused Hermione, "if the issue of morality was put aside, yes, it might theoretically work. Of course, the timing would have to be prefect, and the obliviate would have to last long enough to erase the experience of going back in time and seeing himself. And then of course there's the time loop to consider..."

"Maybe we should test it. Hermione, do you still have your time turner from last year?" asked Harry.

"Oh no. Absolutely not. We are NOT going to test this absurd theory. What if it goes wrong? What if we cause a flaw in the time continuum? What if we're seen by a Ministry official using a Class A regulated object on a muggle without permission? Harry, I encourage the persuit of academic exploration, but it should stay within certain boundaries."

"So, you do still have it?" asked Ron, allowing everything she had just said to slide over his head.

"Not that it matters, but yes, I do. McGonagal allowed me to keep it to further my summer studies, but made it clear that I was not to use it for any other purpose. I had to beg her just to let me keep it, and she only said yes because she trusts me. I'm not going to betray that trust to satisfy your curiosity."

"Alright, alright,"agreed Harry, "We won't do it. There's no need to get so upset about it Hermione. We'd never make you do something that you were truly uncomfortable doing. It was just a thought."

"Hermione, you must be like, the best student ever. McGonagal never does special favors, so its bloody wicked that she let you keep the time turner over summer break," said Ron, actually impressed.

The muggle finally came around, and with a bit more cordiality and much more confusion, told them where their tent was. They set off immediately, with Harry Hermione and Ron in the lead. The first area they entered had hundreds of tents, each sporting the same poster of a surly looking wizard with the name KRUM underneath it.

"Gee, I wonder who their star player is?" remarked Harry, smirking at Ron.

"I know, they practically hero worship the fellow, don't they? Mind you, he IS the best seeker in the league. Once you see him fly, you'll never look at quidditch the same way again. He slaughtered the Canon's seeker, which kept them out of the playoffs," admitted Ron, with equal parts of admiration and bitterness.

Harry couldn't bother to share his bitterness, though, as the campsite was everything he had hoped for and more. Everywhere he looked there were carts selling quidditch merchandise, people chatting amiably, and Ministry officials running around, trying to hide blatant uses of magic. Harry let out a chuckle as he saw one frantically trying to put out a purple fire that was three stories high. There was a decidedly festive atmosphere in the air. Witches and wizards of different cultures stood on common ground when it came to quidditch, and there were people debating the pros and cons of each team around every tent.

Through his observations, Harry learned that Bulgaria was a great team, with Krum being their one beyond-belief player. The Irish team, however, was amazing throughout, with their emphasis being on a highly offensive team of chasers. If the game lasted long, then the Irish chasers would probably bloody up the Bulgarians. But, if the game was short, then Krum could catch the snitch before the Irish worked up too much of a lead.

The Weasleys were supporting Ireland, and so that was the team Harry was going to go with. That didn't stop him from wondering to him just how great this Krum person might be.

Once they reached the campsite, they started setting up the tents, with Harry and Hermione doing most of the work.

"Honestly," said Harry, "Why can't we just use magic to get the things up? It's not like there are any muggles running around. There are only a few muggle site managers, and they all have officials ready and waiting to give out a nice handy obliviate."

Ron, who had given up on the tent about an hour ago, merely nodded as kept handing matches to his Dad, who by the looks of thing, had already gone through 20 packages of matches.

Hermione just rolled her eyes, and Harry was amused over how she could tell he wasn't actually complaining.

Mr. Weasley, overhearing Harry's comment that was meant for Ron and Hermione, interjected himself into the conversation. "Yes, you have a point there Harry, but you're missing the fundamental idea behind it. It's all part of the process, to pitch your own tent, boil your own water, and start your own fire. It shows us what it's like for muggles, and helps spread muggle tolerance. So, since I have tried to instill a positive outlook of muggles into the magical community for my entire live, and since I am a firm believer in leading by example, we will continue to set up camp, the _muggle _way." Mr. Weasley lectured, albeit with good-nature.

"Actually, Mr. Weasley," replied Harry with a tad bit of teasing, "Muggles would use electricity. They're just as lazy as we are."

Almost to prove Harry's point, at that moment Ron got up to use the loo, tripped over one of the haphazardly placed ropes, and the whole ramshackle tent came tumbling down.

There was silence for a few seconds until Hermione chuckled, which she hastily tried to turn into a cough. It was too late though, as both Harry and Ron had heard her, and now they tried to hold snickers behind their hands as well. As Mr. Weasley's expression changed from one of shock to a sheepish grin, the whole group began to laugh together.

"Why Fred, what has these fine folks in so good of a mood?"

"Why George, I haven't the slightest. Mayhaps it's because they saw your face?"

"My face! Now now, brother, let's not forget that my face is much prettier than yours."

"Ah, you hear him? 'Pretty' he says! Why brother, you need not hide your orientation from us. In fact, I hear Malfoy is looking rather dashing this year."

"'Dashing' he says? Dear brother, I had no idea you were attracted to ferrets. Now that I think about it, you DID sleep with that stuffed ferret for ages."

"En...Enough!" gasped Hermione through peals of laughter. The four were all shaking uncontrollably as the humor of the situation made the Twins' mild humor seem insanely funny.

"Why Fred, I don't think we've ever had such an easy audience."

"No brother, it was our amazing wit and dashing good looks that did it."

"There you go with your 'dashing' again. I swear Fred, if you get any more poofy, you might make a good pillow for Draco dearest."

"Maybe, but the hair gel I'd have to wash off would be a deal breaker."

"You mean you don't like substances that are wet and sticky?"

"What's wet and sticky?" asked Ginny, coming back from her chore of gathering more firewood. This caused another round of laughter, the Twins included, with a few protests from Hermione over ruining Ginny's innocence. Of course, Hermione was laughing too, which made her protests feeble at best.

_This is what family is like. This is what Voldemort will never have. This is what I could have had with Sirius._

After a few more warm moments of pure laughter, It was finally Mr. Weasley who realised that his daughter was being upset, and calmed everybody down.

"Ginny, don't worry about it," soothed Mr. Weasley. "You're brothers were just being stupid. Give me a few moments to set up the boys' tent, and then I'll set up the girls' tent for you and Hermione."

"Alright Dad, thanks," muttered Ginny, her face as red as her hair. Harry noticed that she was looking everywhere but at him, and her felt awkward that she still had her hero-worship crush.

Mr. Weasley, after surreptitiously looking around to make sure there were no Ministry workers in the immediate vicinity, quickly cast a murmured "_Casalio_!" Immediately, the boys' tent erected itself, with all of the ropes going together perfectly and all the edges squared off. He repeated the process for the slightly smaller girls' tent, and in seconds, the campsite was set up.

_Things are so much simpler than people let them be_ mused Harry. _If Mr. Weasley had just used magic in the first place, it would have been done ages ago. If Hermione would just let us test that time turner theory, I'm sure we'd have a breakthrough that the Ministry would appreciate. Whatever._

"Alright kids, Bill, Percy, and Charlie will be here soon, and before you know it, it'll be time for the match. Why don't you go and get yourselves set up in the tent, and then explore the campsite?" suggested Mr. Weasley. It was a very good suggestion, and everyone readily agreed.

"Thank you for the tent, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione. "I've been so hot, and wanted to take off my jacket for ages, but I didn't want it getting all muddy." She began pulling her hoodie up over her head, and as she did so, her undershirt rose up a little, revealing a patch of unblemished white skin. As Harry was unabashedly staring, he noticed a glint of gold at the very top of her revealed skin.

_Is that a piercing? No, there's a bulge along with it, like a really long necklace. Or like... the time turner!_

Noticing that most of his sons were staring, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat rather pointedly, and as one, the boys looked away with barely hidden grins. "Hermione, dear, you can change in the tent, remember?"

"Oh right, I'm sorry Mr. Weasley, I didn't even think of it!" said Hermione. But Harry wasn't convinced, he knew what Hermione sounded like when she was apologetic, and she did not sound apologetic at all. Even more interestingly, he saw her and Ginny exchange a significant look, and then they both looked at an oblivious Ron. Ron, however, was totally clueless to the exchange, and looked like he really, really needed to use the loo. After all, it had been a while since he had gotten up and collapsed the tent. So the boys headed into one tent, the girls in to the other, and Mr. Weasley stayed outside to talk to some official named Crouch who Harry got the impression was very important.

However, Harry had better things to do, like tell Ron about the time turner and explore the campgrounds. However, he thought he'd keep the look to himself. If it was what he thought it was, it was the kind of thing Harry didn't want to get involved in, especially between his two best mates. Ron would have to figure THAT out on his own.

_Now, if only Ginny would stop being so awkward. How creepy would it be if Hermione and Ginny were collaborating to romantically attract Ron and me?_

Shuddering slightly at the creepiness of just the thought, Harry changed into wizard robes as he told Ron about the time turner. It seemed like Ron hadn't really noticed anything, and that he turned his head away as soon as the skin was revealed.

"I dunno mate, it was just weird. She's our best mate, you know? I know she's a girl and all, but I just couldn't look at her like that," admitted Ron. "So no, I didn't see anything. Although it makes sense, doesn't it? If I were given a time turner, I'd keep it on me all the time as well. She probably felt it was the safest place, and that it would be impossible to lose it."

"Wow, Ron, that's remarkably insightful," said Harry with some surprise.

"Yeah, I've been upgraded to the emotional capacity of a tablespoon."

The two friends shared a laugh, and after a couple more minutes, were ready to head out of the tent to explore the campgrounds. They exited the tent, only to find Hermione standing there, waiting for them. "Harry, do you mind if I have a word with Ron?"

"Errr, sure. I mean, of course not."

"Thanks, you go ahead to the campgrounds, we'll catch up with you," said Hermione.

Catching Ron's look of sheer panic and confusion, Harry said "There's no need for that, I'll just wait until you're done."

"That's nice of you, but please, no need to inconvenience yourself. We just have to talk about a few things. We'll see you later," assured Hermione. Harry had no idea what this was about, but if it had anything to do with the 'look' he saw earlier, he wanted nothing to do with it.

"Er, alright then, if you insist," agreed Harry. Poor Ron looked like he was in full panic mode. He probably expected a lecture, or something. The bugger had no idea how much worse than a lecture it would be. Harry couldn't help it, he chuckled. It was supremely awkward, but the absolute ignorance of Ron in these matters was enough to laugh at. Hermione seemed to take his chuckle as encouragement.

"Alright, see you later Harry! Come on Ronald, let's have a chat," said Hermione, steering Ron into the girls' tent.

Right as he was about to enter the tent, Ron turned his head around and mouthed "Help me!" to a highly amused Harry. Harry just gave him a look that said "Sorry mate, no can do." With that, Harry set off to see the campgrounds, passing Mr. Weasley who was talking to some auror.

Harry felt a little lonely as he started walking by himself, but he also felt a sense of freedom and adventure. There was a tangible excitement in the air, and somehow, Harry knew that the fun part was only just beginning.

**A/N - Yes, Hermione is acting very OC in this chapter. However, for the purposes of the story, I need her and Ron's relationship to develop quicker than it does in canon. For that, I will attempt to give logical reasons behind the OCness. The full explanation will be given chapter after next, but in case you can't tell, Ginny and her have a better relationship, and from personal experience, girls tend to be bolder when another girl is egging her on. Ginny is egging her on, because let's face it, Hermione is her biggest competition for Harry, and if she's with Ron, she's out of the way.**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N - A longer chapter, and once again, very slow. However pointless these chapters seem, I assure you that they will be extremely significant. Next chapter will have a lot more action, and start the plot that's in the summary. More romance than suits my tastes, but it will serve a purpose later. Just don't expect this fic to contain much more romance than this, as this is not a romance fic.**

Exploring the campgrounds was like exploring Hogwarts, but with a lot more dirt and a lot less Snape.

_On second thought, maybe Snape fills the entire dirt quotient, since hes such a slimy dirtbag. It's his fault that Pettigrew escaped and Sirius is still on the run._

The Weasley camp was at the fringes of the Ireland side of camp, so Harry started walking towards what he assumed was the heart of the Ireland supporters. He spotted several carts, and made a mental note to stop at a few of them later. When pondering what he would buy, he immediately thought of his friends, and what they were probably doing. Hermione was either explaining to Ron what romantic attraction between a male and a female was, or attempting to explain her feelings to him. It was weird, in a way, because Harry had never pegged Hermione as the type to be so forward about stuff like that. Also, he had barely noticed any romantic attraction between the two. They were always bickering all of the time, so in his humble opinion, a relationship between the two would be strained. Not only that, but it would strain all of their friendships. Was Harry doomed to be a third wheel?

_I've always got Ginny as a back up._

_On second thought, no thanks._

The idea of being romantically involved with Ginny, little freckly fangirl Ginny, was so absurd as to almost be humorous. Almost. Besides, she's Ron's sister.

_Well Hermione is my best friend. Honestly, why do girls have to go and bollocks up perfectly good friendship triangle things? _

By this point Harry wasn't paying too much attention to where he was heading, just keeping track of his general direction. Suddenly, Harry was shaken out of his musings by the burst of green light that met his eyes. It literally looked like a giant shamrock monster has risen up out of the ground and devoured the entire camp. Every single tent was completely covered with bright green shamrocks, with the occasional Irish flag waving in the breeze.

The vividness of the camp kept Harry alert to the world, and with a new found enthusiasm, he explored the maze of tents.

_Who cares about Hermione and Ginny and romance and feelings and all that other stuff. This is __**quidditch. **__Screw that other shite, it's time to have some fun._

He stopped at several carts selling merchandise for both teams, although the Bulgaria merchandise became rarer and rarer the deeper he got into the Ireland section. He bought three pairs of Omnoculars, which were the coolest binoculars Harry had ever seen. They'd be dead useful for the match, too. He bought himself an Ireland scarf and an Ireland flag, along with three figurines of the Irish chasers. Then, under the very critical eye of an Irish cart owner, he bought Ron a miniature Krum figure. Hermione was tough, but he eventually found a book that detailed the political history behind past quidditch matches. It was big, heavily worded, and it very small font, meaning that she was sure to love it.

Several galleons later, Harry ended his miniature shopping spree, and looked to see if there was anybody he knew in the area. Once he started looking, he was surprised at just how many classmates were here. The first people he saw were Seamus Finnigan, with his mom and Dean Thomas, in the very heart of the Ireland side of camp.

"Harry!" Dean yelled, and Harry turned to see him and Dean sitting outside their own, plantlife-covered, tent.

"How's it going, Seamus? Dean?" greeted Harry.

"It's going okay. The Ministry is in a fit over our decorations, but why shouldn't we show our colors?" responded Seamus, asking the question rhetorically, a half-smile on his lips.

"Who're you supporting, Harry?" asked Dean, eyeing Harry questioningly. Seamus also eyed Harry, but with a bit more intensity. After assuring them both that he was supporting Ireland, Harry departed from the tent, wondering what would've happened if he would've said he was supporting Bulgaria.

_Life wouldn't be that bad without any fingers on my left hand, right?_

Soon after, he was pleasantly surprised to see Oliver Wood, who quickly ushered him into his tent to introduce him to his parents. "Mum, Dad, this is Harry Potter."

"Pleasure to meet you," his dad said, a kind smile on his face. "You can call me Roger. This is my wife, Margaret."

"Nice to meet you," echoed Margaret. Both of them had very warm brown eyes, although Margaret was a redhead, which made Harry start to think about the Ginny problem again.

"Likewise. I hope Wood isn't as bad at home as he is at school," joked Harry. Both parents laughed, and it was immediately evident where Wood got his disposition from. However, Harry had yet to pinpoint who was the Nazi of the family.

"Oh no, Wood has always been a good boy," said Margaret. "I trained him right. Made sure he did his chores every day, without magic. Made him wake up at the crack of dawn, even on weekends. Builds character, it does. Although who am I to lecture Harry Potter about character!"

"Oh no ma'am, please, go ahead, I'm a downright degenerate," quipped Harry.

This brought on another round of laughter, and Harry was feeling much more comfortable than he would have expected.

_Wood grew up in a good home. They're all so nice. Although Margaret is definitely the Nazi of the bunch. At least she isn't as bad as Aunt Petunia._

" A degenerate! I find that hard to believe. No decent quidditch player is a degenerate! By the way Oliver talks about you, you'd think you were better then Krum on a broom!" said Roger with a degree of enthusiasm only found in proper quidditch fans.

"No, I'm not that good," disagreed Harry. He actually had no idea if this was true, seeing as he'd never watched Krum fly before. Still, it felt right to be humble.

"Don't be modest, Harry, you're bloody brilliant! Once you get out of school, you should join up with Puddlemore United," said Oliver, with an excited smile on his face.

"Why should I go to Puddlemore United...You're kidding! Don't tell me you've been signed! Congratulations, Oliver! That's brilliant news!" exclaimed Harry, immediately happy for the man who used to be his quidditch team captain.

"Thanks, Harry!" replied Wood, with a well earned self-congratulatory grin. "Don't compliment me too much, though. I only was signed on to the reserve team. But if you ever need me to put in a good word with management, I'd be more than happy to."

"That's still amazing, Wood. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not sure if I'm going to play professionally out of school," admitted Harry. After a couple more minutes of catching up, Harry regrettably left the tent, wondering where he would go next. He briefly considered going back to the Weasleys', but Ron and Hermione might still be having their 'talk,' so he decided against it.

A few minutes later, Harry saw Ernie Macmillan, a fourth year from Hufflepuff. Harry talked with him a little bit, but the conversation was rather tedious and pompous.

"Why, the Irish have to give the old one-two to those blasted Bulgarians. I've heard that the Bulgarian seeker is a rather surly fellow."

"Er, yeah, I've heard that too. And yeah, go Ireland."

"I was dithering over whether to give a go at wagering, but alas, I spent my last galleon on those infernal Bertie Botts."

"Mmmhmm, wagering might have been a good idea. But excuse me, I believe I just saw someone I know, I beg pardon."

"Oh of course not old chap! I've enjoyed our conversation immensely. Do go ahead and see this person."

"Me too. And yeah, I'm going too. Bye Ernie!"

"Adieu!"

Ernie always annoyed the hell out of Harry, but he could be a useful acquaintance sometimes. He was a Hufflepuff, but he was as loyal as snake. Meaning, not at all. Currently, though, they were on good terms, and so there was no need to be a dick to someone who only trying to be friendly. Of course, there was no someone else that he had seen, but it seemed like fate was trying to fuck with him when not more than a couple seconds after leaving Ernie, Harry saw Cho Chang.

Cho was a very attractive fifth year from Ravenclaw, and was captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team. She was a seeker, like Harry, and he had faced her before in a match. She smiled at him and waved, and Harry waved sheepishly back, embarrassed that he'd been caught staring. She didn't seem angry, though. In fact, she was still smiling over in his direction.

_Now there is one girl I wouldn't mind dating. Sorry Ginny, talk to me when you look like that._

He was about to pluck up enough nerve to go over their and start up a conversation with her, but at that moment, he heard something that he wished intensely he was imagining.

"Hey, scar head!" drawled out a voice that Harry could recognize from a mile away. Turning slowly, Harry readied himself for the inevitable confrontation with Draco Malfoy. There he was, the little prick himself, standing not 15 feet away from Harry. It seemed like fate was really, really trying to fuck with him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry retorted with as much apathy and disdain as he could put into his voice.

"Oh, touchy, touchy! Sore that the little mudblood wants the Weasel instead of you?" mocked Malfoy.

_...What? I don't like Hermione like that! Oh crap, Cho is watching this!_

Sure enough, when he glanced over to where Cho was, she had a cute little pout of confusion on her face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy, but you'd better clean out your mouth and shove off right now. Me and Hermione are just friends."

"True, my mouth was soiled by even mentioning the existence of that filthy mudblood and the blood traitor. Sadly, my eyes were soiled as well, about an hour ago, when I saw the two liplocked outside your pathetic excuse for a tent."

Harry's face turned beat red, and at that moment, he would've like nothing better than to curse Malfoy to hell and back.

_There's no way. He's lying. It's just not possible._

"Awww, poow wittle Potty can say all he wants, but he still has a sowft spot for the wittle mudbwood."

"Damn right I do! She's my best mate! I'm surprised though, that you have the balls to insult me without your two goons and half of Slytherin house to back you up!"

"Potter, I stopped needing backup to insult you long ago. Having witnesses to your embarrassment just made it much more enjoyable. But your shame of being jealous of a Weasel for getting a mudblood over you is sweet enough for me."

"I said SHOVE OFF!" With that, Harry took out his wand and yelled "_Incendio!"_

Draco was no slouch at dueling, though, and pulled out his wand to counter cast. "_Glacius!"_

The two spells met and cancelled each other out, but Harry quickly fired another series of spells. _"Carpe Retractum! Tarantegella! Petrificus Totalus! Immobolus! Calvorio! Bombarda! Bombarda! Bombarda! Expelliarmus!"_

Malfoy had countered the easy spells, dodged the ones whose counter he didn't know, but was finally hit and thrown to the ground by the three successive _Bombarda's. _The _Expelliarmus _caused his wand to fly out of his hand and into Harry's. Malfoy looked shocked, as he had obviously not expected Harry to outright attack him in the middle of a very public place. The mortification slowly seeped into Malfoy's face as he realised that Harry had just thrashed him, publicly, and now held his wand.

Harry breathed heavily for a second, his mind not quite caught up with his actions.

"HARRY!"

Harry looked around to see a flabbergasted Hermione and a confused Ron standing next to five very serious-looking aurors.

"Hey, Hermione," replied Harry, for lack of anything better to say.

"Don't just stand there, arrest him! Tell him to give me back my wand!" Malfoy commanded, gaining a little bit of his arrogance back now that he once again had the numbers.

"Mr. Potter," asked an auror who looked like he meant business, "What happened here? And give Mr. Malfoy back his wand immediately."

Harry's temper flared up, and for a second he felt like saying that he won this wand from Malfoy, fair and square. Then he realized he would, eventually, have to give it back, and it was stupid to act defiant to a group of pissed off aurors.

Wordlessly, Harry tossed Malfoys wand into the dirt halfway between them. Malfoy gave him a look of pure loathing before he stood up, brushed some of the dirt off his now ruined robes, and walked to where his wand was. He picked it up slowly, reassuring the aurors that he wasn't going to try anything. He turned and started walking away, but then he paused, and looked back at Harry.

"You'll pay for this Potter. I swear it."

He moved to keep walking, when suddenly an auror called out "Just where do you think you're going? You need to be questioned too. Get back here."

Looking like a total fucktard for trying to make some dramatic exit, Malfoy came stalking back, his face pink.

For Harry, the entire thing was rather amusing. It's not every day he got to see Malfoy's ass handed to him, twice.

The auror who had been the speaker for the group once again resumed that role. "My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. This is Tonks, Dawlish, Savage, and Williamson." At each name, he pointed to a different person, none of which Harry had ever met before.

Tonks was a woman in her mid twenties with bright pink spiky hair, and a nose ring. She was the most unusual of the five, and Harry found himself wondering how she became an auror at all. Dawlish was a plain man in his mid thirties, but he had the meanest eyes, like, he would pretend to be a nice guy until he cut your throat. Savage was a brute, all muscle. Williamson was reedy, and looked like the kind of guy that would apologize for something even if it wasn't his fault.

Overall, not really what Harry expected from London's finest. Kingsley, on the other hand, was exactly what he expected an auror to be. He was dark skinned, with an imposing frame, and a manner that screamed confidence and intelligence. It was also very obvious that he was the leader of the bunch.

"I'd give you our names, but it seems you already know them," said Harry, addressing Kingsley instead of the entire group.

"That I do. However, the question still remains of what happened here. From what I saw, you successfully hit Mr. Malfoy with three _Bombarda's_ and an _Expelliarmus._ You did this, in front of a large crowd of bystanders, any of whom could have been hurt, in a public place where such altercations are illegal, using underage magic which is not allowed during the summer holidays. You did all of this, even after the warning you received two years ago which clearly stated that using underage magic was strictly forbidden, and if performed again, would leave you subject to severe penalties. Now, is all of that right so far?"

Harry felt a lump form in the back of his throat, and his stomach sank more and more for each word Kingsley said. His mind was in panic mode, so all he could think to do was nod.

"Good. Now, before this goes any further, I want to know what happened before we arrived."

"Sir, I can answer you. That wanker attacked me!" exclaimed Malfoy.

"That's not true, you lying bigot!" Came a female voice near the back of the crowd that had formed.

"I concur!" came a second voice that was decidedly male.

Short bursts of noises expressing pain, disgruntlement, and surprise followed as two people forced their way through the crowd from opposite sides. Harry could've danced when he saw Cho's face appear, although he was slightly surprised to see Ernie's.

"Who are you, and what did you see of the altercation?"

"My name is Cho Chang, sir, and I saw the whole thing. Harry was about to come over and say hello to me when Malfoy appeared out of nowhere and started to insult him and his friends. He called Harry 'scar-head', called his muggleborn friend Hermione a, well, you know, what bigots call muggleborns, and called Ron Weasley a blood traitor and a weasel. Harry told him to be quiet and leave, but Malfoy continued yelling at him, until Harry finally reached his limit and sent an _Incendio _at him. Malfoy responded with a _Glacius_, and instead of trying to run away or get help, Malfoy continued the duel by firing several counter-spells to the next round of spells Harry sent at him. Sir, Harry was provoked."

_She didn't say anything about him accusing me of liking Hermione. Does she not believe him? Did she not hear it?_

"I see. And you sir, who are you and what did you see of the events?" asked Kingsley.

"My name is Ernie Macmillan sir. I'm a tenth generation pureblood, on both sides, and my father, you might know him, he works in the Department of Magical Transportation. Good chap, goes fishing with Minister Fudge and Mr. McLaggen on some weekends. My great grandmother, Melania Black, was the inventor of the cheering charm. Rather ironic story actually, the poor woman was the most depressing person you would ever meet. She was rather good friends with Phineus Nigellus Black at the end of his days, who as you know"

"Yes, Mr. Macmillan, I have heard of all of them. Now that you have firmly identified who you are and who you know, do you mind telling me what you saw happen?"

_Was that sarcasm? I swear I heard sarcasm in there._

"Yes, sir, apologies. Well, I saw Harry about to approach this fine young lady, who by the way is a fourth generation pureblood with several key connections in the Chinese Ministry, when Mr. Malfoy confronted Harry with absolutely no provocation. It was utterly uncivilized, I tell you. Then, Mr. Malfoy then began to insinuate that Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley were romantically involved, and mocked Harry for being jealous Mr. Weasley. Well, Harry did what any good chap would do and defended a woman's honor, as well as his own. I was totally apalled to see a scion of the House of Malfoy act in such a way, and treat Mr. Potter, who can trace his lines all the way back to the Peveralls, like some piece of garbage. It was disgraceful, sir, disgraceful."

"Those are absolutel lies!" protested Malfoy. "I approached Potter to inform him of a situation which I thought he would be interested in knowing. I saw his two best friends engaged in a kiss, and figured he would be interested in the development. When he grew angry over my selfless act, and started to insult me, I was admittedly frustrated over how ungrateful he was, and proceeded to insult him back. However, after some mild bantering, nothing too serious, he pulls out his wand like a crazy person! I could barely defend myself, and I'm lucky I escaped relatively unscathed. It's not my fault that he attacked me because he was upset after learning about his friends. I was just the messenger."

"You two," Kingsley pointed at Ron and Hermione, "Are you the two friends in question?"

"Yes sir," replied Hermione timidly. Ron merely nodded.

"Were you engaged in amorous relations?"

"Sir, I hardly see how that matters," said Hermione.

"It matters because if it's true, Mr. Malfoy did have a cause to seek out Mr. Potter, meaning that he did not verbally engage Mr. Potter without provocation. It also would mean that there was a legitimate basis for Mr. Potter's anger, and that after he expressed his anger over the news to Mr. Malfoy, all of Mr. Malfoy's next comments were purposefully incendiary. So, did you or did you not have amorous relations?"

"No!" protested Ron.

"Yes," confessed Hermione.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and Ron eventually backed down.

"Yes sir, we did," continued Hermione, her face turning red enough to rival Ron's.

"Very well then. All of you get out of here. There is no solid case against either of you, and this is shaping up to be a colossal waste of time. However, hopefully this will teach you that altercations in the wizarding world will not go unaddressed. Dueling is serious, and can have very serious repercussions. Do you understand?"

There was a chorus of 'yes sirs' and sighs of disappointment. The crowd had apparently been waiting for a verdict, and there was very little satisfaction in a 'this is pointless' conclusion.

Harry saw Ron and Hermione standing together, looking very nervous. Feeling a little bit like a child, but not really caring at that moment, Harry purposefully turned away from them and walked towards Cho.

"Thank you Cho, you were brilliant," said Harry sincerely. Cho smiled and blushed prettily, muttering a hasty 'it was nothing.' "No Cho, seriously, thank you." Harry leaned forward and gave her a hug, which was much more intimate than the kind of hug he'd give Mrs. Weasley.

_Damn, why'd I have to think of her? What a way to ruin the mood. _

Still, the hug was nice, and Cho didn't seem to be complaining. As the two stopped hugging, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Harry, old chap! That was a tight spot, but there was no way they could do anything with all of our connections. We make one smashing team, don't we?" said Ernie who gave Harry a pat on the back that was a little too solid for Harry's tastes.

"Still, surprising about Hermione and Ron, isn't it? I never saw it coming, and I have the eyes of a fox," stated Ernie, fishing for more information.

"Yeah. Surprising." Harry glanced at Cho, who had turned away, looking a little awkward. Still, her eyes met his, and they asked him to either confirm or deny what Malfoy had said earlier. "Still, I'm happy for them. It's odd, like having you're brother and sister get together, but I'll deal with it. I don't know how it happened though. I mean, I thought Ron was like me and saw Hermione as one of the guys."

"Ah, well, these things do happen. Of course, the same thing happened with my Aunt Rose..." prattled Ernie, but Harry tuned him out. The look of happiness that crossed Cho's face made Harry reconsider a few things. Mainly, whether or not Cho might actually like him. Of course he had his boyish crush on Cho, but he never saw that as serious. Cho was in a different grade, in a different house. She was part of a totally different circle than he was. He had his crush, but never expected anything to come of it. Now though... Now things were different.

"Well, guess I'll see you around?" offered Cho. To Harry's teenage mind, it was practically an invitation.

"Definitely. Just don't tell me where you're sitting for the match, or I'll have a hard time watching the game," said Harry, a bit more confident than was normal for him.

_Alright, a lot more._

"Harry, you're too much. You better get back to your tent though, the match is going to start soon, and you should be with your party. Besides, let Ron and Hermione know you're happy for them. No need to strain their relationship right off the bat," suggested Cho.

"You're absolutely right. Okay then, I'll see you later, then, Cho. And Ernie," acknowledged Harry at the end. Seeing that Ron and Hermione were loitering just out of hearing distance, and were clearly waiting for him, he decided to get this over with now.

_You know what, this is all Ginny's fault. Girls don't do this crap unless they have another girl to collaborate with. Bring two girls to a quidditch cup, and what do you get? A whole bunch of pointless romantic bullshit._

_Of course, if Sirius were here he'd be laughing his ass off. As someone who knew what true suffering was, Sirius would say that the little things are what make life worth living. Maybe one day I'll look back on this day and smile fondly._

As Harry walked towards the pair, he got close enough to see the frown lines on Hermione's upper lip. That could only mean she was preparing to give someone a long-winded lecture, and since Ron looked relatively unharmed, it was going to be for Harry.

_Ok, so maybe not so fondly._

**A/N - So, next chapter is when the fun starts. The part with the aurors was mostly for readers to understand that this is nor fairytale land, and people can't go slinging around spells without an investigation. However, Kingsley generally isn't a hardass, and so he let it go. I'd imagine he has more important things to do than get involved in teenaged squabbles. He mostly just wanted to teach them a lesson. If the two people fighting weren't Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, but some random two teenagers, SOMEONE from the Ministry would have come, but it definitely wouldn't have been a group of high-ranking aurors. Oh, and 'auror' is capitalized in canon, but I don't understand why. I mean, it's a profession. You don't say "He went to see a Doctor," you say "He went to see a doctor." Now, if it is said like a rank, I will capitalize it. For instance, "Doctor House is amusing", or "Auror Shacklebolt is diplomatic." So I apologize if any are upset by this breach in canon punctuation, but it's a pain in the ass to capitalize all the times I say auror. Sorry if that's a dealbreaker.**


End file.
